


White Knuckles

by Boo62



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Blood, Demons, Dying Sam, Hurt Castiel, Hurt Sam Winchester, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Torture, One Shot, So much angst, did i mention the angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-22
Updated: 2014-09-22
Packaged: 2018-02-18 10:45:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,725
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2345576
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Boo62/pseuds/Boo62
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He knew it. It was a trap. Of course it was a goddamn trap. All a set up. Why hadn’t he seen it sooner?</p>
            </blockquote>





	White Knuckles

**Author's Note:**

> So this made me cry a little bit.. hope you enjoy some Winchester hurty angst stuff!

He knew it. It was a trap. Of course it was a goddamn trap. All a set up. Why hadn’t he seen it sooner? 

The Impala ripped down the highway. No music this time. Just the sound of the engine revving as Dean pushed her faster. His knuckles weren’t clenched on the steering wheel- when you drove fast, you drove careful. Kept your eyes on the road. Focused on the hunt. Dean doesn’t think about what they might be doing to Sam right now, all because he wasn’t smart enough. Now was not the time for that. Now was the time to get there in one piece.

The turnoff, into an old industrial park. Would America ever have a lack of abandoned warehouses? Someone should keep track of them, stop the sons of bitches from using them all the time… these are the thoughts going through Deans head as he glances from left to right, trying to find the block of concrete and metal where he now knew they waited. He didn’t think about how he and Sam had parted that morning, all sullen glances and harsh comments.

There it was. ‘Browns Tinned Goods’ read the sign on the huge side of the building, but it was clear it had been a long time since a soup can came out of there. It was probably empty. Aside from the host of demons who had holed up there, waiting for a chance to take down the Winchester boys. Dean pulled up the Impala right next to the metal link fence- at this point , it was too late for subterfuge. Looking out, he couldn’t see anyone, but that didn’t mean much when dealing with demons. Within minutes he was armed and walking around the side, toward the entrance which was nothing more than a huge set of ridged metal doors.

Turning the corner, his last bit of hope that he had been wrong vanished. There was Sam’s car, neatly parked in one of the designated spots in the car park empty of any other vehicle. Now the anger starts to rise inside Dean, but he pushes it down, icy glare the only giveaway on his otherwise blank face of the pain inside. Dean had always been better at poker than Sam, always the one who would throw the chips down on the table at some roadside bar, playing until they had enough for the motel that night, or at least for a bottle of whiskey to keep them warm in the Impala while the waited for the night to end. His poker face was second to none. 

Dean looked along at the doors. He could clearly see the huge chain and padlock threaded through the handles, as clear sign to stay the hell away from this building. Well, that wasn’t an issue. The fire escape wound up the side of the building, the ladder easy enough to pull down. Dean climbed up, reaching the faded red fire door in a matter of minutes. It opened roughly, showering rust and old paint down through the metal grill Dean was standing on. He crept inside, expecting an attacker to appear out of the shadows, but there was no one there to ambush him. He moved further inside, yanking the door closed behind him.  
The he heard the shouting.

Dean ran forward down the dank hallway, toward the unmistakable sound of a fight. He could hear crashes, and rough shouting that became clearer as he got closer. Weapon at the ready, he pushed through the double doors and emerged onto a walkway that ran around the walls, above the main floor of the bare factory. Down below was the source of the shouting, and the fight.

There were maybe five or six demons, all black eyed and snarling as they fought. Their opponent was Sam, his huge frame and furious expression clearly making them reluctant to intervene as he lashed out and easily broke the arm of the demon he was fighting with. Behind Sam there was a chair, toppled over and missing a leg. Sam had been tied up, and had somehow got free, though it was obvious he had been tied for long enough for the demons to do some damage- he was shirtless, and bleeding from multiple wounds across his torso. 

Dean took all this in in a moment, lifting his gun and shooting a demon in the back from his position above the scene. It screamed, a column of black smoke rising out of the body of the middle aged man. As the demons turned, realising the presence of more players in this deadly game, Dean was already moving down the stairs, reloading his gun, preparing to join his brother in this fight. Even as he made the motions, he was still puzzling over how Sam had gotten free from his bonds. If Sam had broken out himself, the why had he not done it before they started hurting him? Why wait for them to inflict wounds?  
Dean reached the bottom of the steps, lifting his gun and firing at the demon which had run across the concrete toward him. He heard a screech, and he shoved the body aside, looking toward the centre of the floor, where the fight had resumed with more intensity. The demons moved on Sam, who lifted a blade of bright silver in one hand as he prepared for the first attacker.

And so it made sense to Dean: his brother hadn’t gotten free, he had been freed by someone else, someone who had tried to help him and had given him a weapon before...before what? What had happened? Where was Castiel now? And it would have been Cas, Dean was sure of it. What other angel would step in to help the Winchesters? Sam would have prayed to him for help, even without the reassurance of having a ‘profound bond’ with the angel. The sequence of events mostly clear to him now, Dean moves forward to fight alongside his brother.

It’s an intense battle. The demons, realising the possibility of losing their captive and spurred on, no doubt, by the idea of having taken down not one but two of the Winchester brothers, fight harder. Deans gun gets knocked out of his hand and he draws the demon killing knife, slashing backwards and forwards to try to cut his way through the demons to get to Sam’s side. He can see that Sam is weakening now, blood flying as he spins, wielding the angel blade with deadly power but taking more blows to his body than he is inflicting on the demons.

Dean cuts the throat of a younger man, doesn’t watch the smoke fly out of his slack mouth, turning instead to Sam whose jaw is clenched and eyes bright with pain. Three demons remain, facing the brothers, licking their lips and letting out hushed snarls as they glare at the two men before them. Dean stares straight at them even as he speaks to Sam.

“Sam?”

“Dean.”

Dean wants to ask if he is okay, to apologise for screwing up, to tell Sam it’s his fault they fought that morning, his fault that Sam was captured and tied to a chair and cut and ripped by these black eyed sons of bitches. Dean doesn’t say any of this. He’ll say it later. Right now he needs to get them out. But first….

“Sam. Where’s Cas?” 

He doesn’t get an answer, and he takes his eyes away the demons for a second to glance at his brother. Sam’s face is tight, showing the pain he’s in. Blood drips down from his nose, and from a cut above his eye. He looks now toward Dean, and there’s something more than physical pain in his expression.

“Sam. You gotta tell me where he is, so we can get outta here.”

As it happens, Dean never gets an answer to his question, as that’s when the demons resume their attack. It’s also the moment, as Dean feels a fist slam into his stomach, that Cas appears through the doors at the back of the room. He’s running. No, he is fleeing. Two demons pursue the angel, whose face is bloodied and who clutches his right arm against his chest. Why he hasn’t healed himself, why he didn’t exorcize the demons, Dean can’t fathom right now. He was knocked to the floor by the force of the attack, and a demon possessing a women with dark hair is on top of him, trying to beat the knife out of his hands. He twists, shoving the blade up and into her stomach, yanking the knife out and pushing her aside. There are still four demons in the factory. On a regular day, Sam, Dean and Castiel would have been more than a match for them. But Sam was injured, Dean could see him starting to sway as he tried not to fall over, and Cas was hurt and apparently unable to heal himself, and with Sam holding the angel blade, Cas was unarmed as well.

Dean made his choices quickly- it was why he was a good hunter, he decided on a course of action and stayed with it. He ran toward Sam, who fell as Dean watched, the angel blade clattering away across the hard floor. Immediately one demon was on top of him, hands at his throat. Sam’s long arms were flailing, trying to reach the blade and dislodge the demon that had its fingers choking his air. As Dean moved in toward the demon and Sam on the floor, the last demon who had faced the Winchester brothers hesitated, before turning away. Dean guessed it had given up on the fight and was trying to run. It made it two steps before Dean’s knife hit it in the back.

Now Dean snatched up the angel blade where it had dropped out of Sam’s hands, and in one smooth movement sliced off the head of the blonde man possessed by a demon who was trying to kill his brother. The body fell to the side, its white shirt smeared with blood from the many lacerations on Sam’s bare torso.  
Sam was gasping as Dean reached down to pull him up.

“C’mon Sammy. Let’s get you up. We gotta go.”

“D- Dean. Get Cas. Cas…”

Sam’s voice was weak as he allowed Dean to half lift, half drag him over to the wall. 

“I know, Sam. Wait here. I’m going to get him back. “

Dean set Sam against the wall, with his legs sticking out and his head falling back as Dean propped him against the cold concrete.  
Dean turned from his brother, back toward where Cas was making a pitiful attempt to escape the demons behind him. He was on his knees now, falling forward with a cry of pain as one the two demons shoved him down. He couldn’t catch himself in time- one arm was still clutching the other- so he fell onto his face, giving a sharp scream as his body hit the ground. Dean moved forward, angel blade in one hand, jaw set. The demons standing over the fallen form of the angel really didn’t have a chance. They moved back, away from the form in the beige trench coat, away from the dark figure with the silver blade in one hand and the eyes the colour of emeralds but as hard and as cold as diamonds.

The demons both moved to attack Dean at the same time. He struggled as a demon grabbed his arm, punching him across the face and splitting his lip. Dean shook it off, slashing out with the blade and cutting deep into the stomach of the closest demon. The black smoke distracted both man and demon for a moment, and Dean drew his hand across his face to clear it of blood. Then they faced each other again.

“So, Dean, this is your pet angel…more pathetic than I thought he would be. I’m a little disappointed.”

The demon spoke with a pleasant accent, the malice in his words all the more threatening for the fact they came out of a mouth that belonged to someone who looked like a math teacher. Dean didn’t respond, just stood with the angel blade loose and ready in his hand.

“ And then there’s dear little Sammy over there…”

Deans gaze didn’t move from the demon in front of him.

“Did you know Dean….he is a bit of a screamer, that one.”

The demon was trying to provoke him, Dean knew that.

“Shouted for you. When we first started with the knife. Then went quiet until this useless piece of crap showed up.”

Castiel moved behind them, a moan coming from his lips as he tried to raise himself.

“And now, you appear. The one Winchester with a little bit of a brain. But I think we will have to cut our visit short, Dean. I have somewhere to be.”

The demon started to move his head back, to throw the coil of black smoke into the air. But he never did. The angel blade went through his throat, leaving Deans hand with pinpoint accuracy. The demon choked, blood coming out of the body’s mouth as it fell. Dean stepped forward, yanking the blade out with another spurt of blood. 

“Dean…Dean.”

Castiels voice was weak, barely more than whimper. Dean knelt next to him, taking hold of the front of the trench coat, trying to shift Cas to a more comfortable position. He heard a sound over by the doors, and he glanced up to check on Sam.

And he froze.

The demon who had tried to run buried the knife it had pulled from its own back into Sam’s stomach.

Dean let go of Cas. He moved faster than he could ever remember moving before. He was across the bare floor; past the bodies and broken chair to Sam before he even really registered he was moving. The demon died within seconds of having pushed the blade into Sam, Castiel’s angel blade in Dean’s hand giving it the swift release it did not deserve.

Kneeling by Sam’s body now, still propped against the wall. Sam’s eyes were closed, a trickle of blood coming from his mouth. He breathed still, his hands clutching the wound in his stomach.

Dean took Sam’s face in his hands.

“Sam. Sammy. C’mon now. Stay with me. We’re gonna get you out, we’re going to get you help, stay with me Sam c’mon…”

Sam’s breath released in a gasp, in and out again, his eyelids fluttering. Dean continued to speak to him, a hand on his little brothers shoulder, the other hand trying to find his phone. Then Castiel was there by Dean’s side, still holding his arm, looking grey with exhaustion and pain. 

“Dean. We should move. They will be back, and we need to get him to a hospital.”

Dean heard the angels words, knew they were what he should be saying. 

“Cas…”

This word encompassed so much of what Dean wanted to say.

“ Let’s go.”

Between them, Dean and Cas lifted Sam, though Cas wasn’t much help with only one arm. Dean noticed, as he had before, when the angel was in pain he didn’t really seem to understand it, didn’t understand that using a limb that was broken would make it worse. So he tried to take as much of Sam’s weight as he could as they moved him out into the darkening parking lot.

They got him into the back of the Impala. Sam was unconscious now. Dean would have rather stayed in the back with him, held his little brother as they drove to the hospital, but he knew that wasn’t an option. Castiel gave him a look of such understanding as he moved in the backseat to be with Sam that Dean almost couldn’t bear it.

“Cas. Where’s the nearest hospital?”

That was what Dean said. He didn’t say, why can’t you heal him, this is my fault; you’re both hurt, what happened. He didn’t say I’m sorry.

“Turn East.”

And with the angel, broken and beaten, and his brother, wrapped in the angel’s arms, barely breathing, Dean drove out toward the highway.

His knuckles on the steering wheel were white.

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fic. Constructive criticism only please!


End file.
